Afterword

In just seven generations—from Se’alth’s parents to the Duwamish elder Ken Workman, and from James Rasmussen’s great-great-great grandmother, Tupt-Aleut, to his niece, Christine Nelson—the changes brought by Euro-American explorers and colonists in the Northwest have transformed the Duwamish River and its communities nearly beyond recognition. Yet some of the river’s Native people and their kin in the natural world hang on. The salmon, the cedar, and the great blue heron can still be found in and near the river if you know where to look. And Duwamish tribal members today frequently echo their chairwoman’s mantra when they remind us, “We are still here.”

In 2019, the Duwamish Tribe celebrated the tenth anniversary of their longhouse and cultural center, built on the waterway’s sole surviving river bend. Erected more than a century after their last ancestral longhouse was burned down, the center serves as a reminder that Native places and people survive in Seattle. The Muckleshoot Tribe, which absorbed many of the Duwamish people, also remind us of this each fall when they lay their nets out on the river, catching salmon for the tribe and for trading, as they have always done, in the commercial market. Despite all the changes, the Duwamish River, its people, and its salmon are inextricably linked.

As this book goes to print, government, industry, and community representatives working to clean up the Duwamish River are struggling to find common ground. Diminishing federal government support for environmental health protections and an eroding commitment to environmental justice in the Environmental Protection Agency under President Donald Trump are also leading once again to uncertainty about the future of the river cleanup.

In 2019, EPA proposed weakening water quality and cleanup standards for a raft of pollutants. Some advocates worry that this change could undermine hard-won health protections for the Duwamish River. Round-table participants attempting to overcome past divisions are trying to build trust as they move forward together to address the river’s challenges. None of this work is easy, and its success is not guaranteed. But most consider the rewards of creating a new model of collaboration to be well worth the trouble. Ridding the city of the stigma of having one of the nation’s most contaminated rivers is a powerful incentive to succeed. For this to happen, everyone will need to be at the table—listening, problem-solving, and lifting their share of the historical and contemporary burden—in order to provide for the needs of the city’s diverse Native and immigrant communities in the complex urban and industrial waterscape of Seattle’s only river.